Celebrate Like Vermin!
by Kilroy of 1918
Summary: It seems that woodlanders and vermin share a holiday. Dachlan the fox takes it upon himself to show them how to celebrate it like vermin do. In continuity with my other stories "Excessive Zeal" and "Where Am I Going To?"


"Oho! B'ain't you'm jus' a likkle too auld fer traipsin' 'bout t'noit Brudder Dokkin?"

"Not by half, foremole!" crowed Dachlan, baring his teeth in a genuine, if extremely toothy, smile before thrusting an open sack towards Foremole Muddle. "Now gimme!"

Good-natured and reliable as ever, Foremole Muddle reached into the bowl of treats he was carrying and grabbed a fistful of sweets, then dropped the candied chestnuts, honey-crystallized fruit, bite-sized pastries, and other delectables into Dachlan's sack. They fell onto a nicely sized pile of other tasty things that Dachlan managed to accumulate.

"There yer go, zurr! Gurt big 'andful fer 'ee growin' lad, still growin' parst 'is eightyteenth birrday."

Foremole Muddle winked a squinty, little eye and near-waddled his way back into the abbey, leaving behind a grinning fox who couldn't be more pleased with the night's haul. Dachlan couldn't help but wonder whether moles were too blind to be frightened of the ghoulish apparitions that stalked Redwall Abbey during the Orange Autumn Moon as he watched the foremole pretend to be terrified of a passing dibbun dressed as a bat. Moles were generally so timid that it was a shock to see one of them enjoying himself on a night of scares.

Of course, Dachlan was surprised at how much fun he was having too, as he was every year. The Orange Autumn Moon was one of the few celebrations that woodlanders held which Dachlan felt any real fondness for, and he could remember loving it just as much now as he did the first time he'd taken part as a fox kit. Of course, his costume was considerably more elaborate now than it was back then, in fact he'd taken pains on it.

He'd used berries to dye a raggedy old infirmary sheet red before fashioning it into a frighteningly ragged robe. His brush of a tail was wrapped in spare scraps, and an old trowel he'd tied to the end provided a nice spade tip. A bit of soot on his cheeks, neck, and around his eyes atop a foundation of flour made Dachlan's head look appropriately skull-like. Fangs whittled from bird bone and secured with paste (which many sensible beasts would have harangued him for putting in his mouth) gave Dachlan an even pointier smile than normal. There'd been shockingly little carving needed to turn a couple of gnarled old branches into a set of horns, and they along with an aged and abused rake that had been plucked of all its tines but three rounded out the costume. Presto! Devil horns and a pitchfork!

And so it was that Vulpuz himself had escaped the Hellgates themselves to stalk the grounds of Redwall Abbey! And what was the nefarious intent of the Vermin Devil? The dastardly and truly villainous acts of leaping out of bushes to frighten unsuspecting and innocent woodlanders, and sauntering about looking ominous and eerie, no doubt causing many a chill to run down many a spine… Though these wicked deeds were interrupted by periodic stops made to explain to the curious that the vermin had a different Devil than woodlanders, and that yes that Devil _is_ a fox. Naturally such evil acts could only be answered with sweets.

As Dachlan haunted his home, mock pitchfork in one paw and sack of spirit-warding goodies in the other, he saw a troupe of dibbuns pass by, being led from candy source to candy source by a mousemaid. Slipping into the shadows of a tree, Dachlan struck a pose and called out in his best hokey and undulating ghost voice, "Oooooooo! Who's the slowbeast who's coming back to the crypt with me?"

The dibbuns let out a collective squeak and bunched up around the mousemaid's dress in an effort not to be at the back of the line. The icing on the cake was the dirty glare that the mousemaid shot towards Dachlan before she realized that he wasn't just wearing a very clever fox mask. She gasped and hurried along herself.

"Hah!" crowed Dachlan, rewarding himself with a candied chestnut.

His spirits were soaring, buoyed up by a feeling that rolled back the clock to some of the best times of his cubhood. The Orange Autumn Moon was not, after all, just a woodlander celebration. They shared it with with some of the less villainous vermin in Mossflower. Naturally with them it bore a different name, and it was with no small amount of pride that Dachlan still referred to the night by its vermin name: the Foxmoon! What better night to be named after foxes than one that, in its vermin variant, wasn't so much about dressing up in a costume to hide from malicious spirits as it was to temporarily become one of them!

And so when he was a kit, Dachlan hadn't spent that night smiling and asking adults for candy, but rather taken part in schemes to "steal" it as tradition demanded. Any sufficiently clever kit was permitted to take his share of the sweets, and those who ere not so clever… well there was always the tried and true tactic of beating up one's playmates and stealing their candy. Of course, as Dachlan grew up amongst other fox kits who all considered themselves the absolute end of cleverness, such methods were frowned upon and considered best left to oafish rats and stoats.

Dachlan could still remember his crowning moment when he'd carefully peeled the skin off his orange, eaten the pulp, then packed the two empty halves of skin full of dirt. After sealing it with glue one could scarcely tell what he'd done so long as it was dark. He'd traded it for a small pawful of candy and fled before the other kit figured out what was wrong. It was days before the other kit spoke to him again.

He grinned to himself. Perhaps that would be a fun trick to play on some of the doddering old farts in Redwall who'd punished him when he was young!

No… Dachlan's grin slipped away. No, one of them would fail to understand the prank, and then there'd be truble. Most woodlanders weren't very clever about fun, mischievous things.

Surely though there had to be some opportunity to cap off the night with a prank more complicated than jumping out at skittish beasts.

Dachlan's ears perked up as he heard one of the adults leading a train of dibbuns back inside the abbey. She had to raise her voice to be heard above the loud hooting of several mole dibbuns who were trying their hardest to make ghost sounds to go along with their costumes.

"Alright, little ones! Time to go back inside for dinner!"

There came several moans that the treat-getting portion of the night was over, all of which were rapidly hushed by a guardian who was experienced enough with cubs to know that allowing whining to gain traction was a guarantee that it would never stop.

"And after our delicious dinner, we can all go to the orchard for scary stories!"

The moans turned into cheers with a shift in attention that only small cubs could muster. It prompted such a severe eye roll from Dachlan that he should have been able to stare down his own throat and remind himself what he'd eaten that day. When woodlanders sat down and tried to figure out how to make an exciting vermin holiday boring, they really put their hearts and minds into the task. Scary stories shouldn't get the same cheers that would normally be given to fairytales! Dachlan was willing to bet that those dibbuns had never heard a good, proper vermin tale of horror.

He snorted, then trotted off to get his own dinner.

After a half an hour, Dachlan wasn't in the Great Hall having dinner anymore, but rather was in the kitchens, his paw half-dipped into a jar of raspberry jam. He couldn't help but jump a bit as Friar Marbury tapped him on the shoulder, the aged friar leaning his considerable weight onto an oven paddle he'd repurposed into a walking stick.

He smiled at the fox and poked him playfully in the stomach. "Didn't get enough dinner, Brother Dachlan? Now you have to pinch my jams? They can't have gone through everything in the Great Hall just yet."

Dachlan sucked every finger on his paw and then put the jar away.

"I didn't want to stay in the crowd much longer. Besides, I think me in costume might have been a little too much for some of the more timid beasts in there," said Dachlan with a shrug. "Not to mention your jam makes for a good desert, friar."

"Oh? But you're missing out on being with everybeast else on a holiday," said Friar Marbury.

Of course the friar didn't understand. When he was younger he was well known as the life of any event, and a gut that followed him into the frailty of old age was a testament to that badge of honor. The idea that somebeast might have had enough celebrating was quite simply beyond his comprehension.

Friar Marbury motioned for Dachlan, and the fox walked him over to the kitchen's corner chair to sit down, which he did with a loud and weary groan before continuing to speak, "You really should go back and get some proper food in you though, Dachlan. You've never eaten enough. I'm shocked you got that tall considering how much of a chore it was to get you to eat when you were a dibbun."

Dachlan's ears flattened at the assertion that he was ever a dibbun. A dibbun was what woodlanders called anything that was small, cute, young, and innocent. Did very really qualify as cute or innocent at any point in their lives?

"Just never had much of an appetite, I guess," said Dachlan.

"I think a few beasts were going to sing autumn songs a little bit after dinner. Did you at least want to hear that?" asked the friar.

Dachlan almost pulled a face before he remembered that Redwallers had a tendency to praise singing regardless of skill. Certainly some beasts were worth listening to, but sandwiching them on both sides were others who Dachlan would have to applaud for just to remain polite. Because they certainly weren't going to get it for their skill.

Dachlan avoided the question by turning it around. "I'm surprised that you didn't want to listen yourself."

"Oh, I would, Brother Dachlan, but I'm afraid that at my age, I just can't stay up so late anymore. The first slow song would put me to sleep. You'll understand when you're my age."

Dachlan's ears perked as he heard a cry of joy from many tiny voices. Even two rooms away dibbuns could make themselves. They must have been leaving to get their "scary" story before the songs calmed them down for the night.

"Actually, I think I might spend a little more time out and about before I turn in as well. Goodnight, Friar Marbury," said Dachlan.

Dachlan turned to leave, but the friar took hold of the hem of his robe. "Before you go…"

The friar paused and fished around in the folds of his habit, finally pulling out a handful of candied chestnuts and dropping them into Dachlan's sack. The idea of someone leaving the kitchen without some kind of food was another concept that was absolutely alien to him, and that night provided a means to ensure that even Dachlan left with something to put in his stomach.

"Since you went through all the trouble of making a costume..." said the friar with a wink. "It's nice to see you finally getting into the spirit of celebrating with your fellow abbeybeasts."

Dachlan thanked Friar Marbury and sprinted out of the kitchen, feeling very much in the spirit indeed!

Dachlan caught up with the train of dibbuns just a few steps out of the Great Hall. To keep the group in order, six brothers and sisters of the order were flanking the dibbuns with lanterns, and with the ever-reliable Sister Adelene in the lead, who was trying to get dibbuns into the proper mood for a spooky tale by making the most unconvincing ghost noises ever uttered by a living being. It was impossible for Dachlan not to roll his eyes at her attempt to set the mood. The mousemaid was about as intimidating as a butterfly.

"Oh, Brother Dachlan!" she exclaimed as the fox slipped up alongside her.

"Hello, sister," he replied before turning to address the dibbuns as well. "Off to hear some scary stories?"

A cheer arose from the dibbuns, and Sister Adelene gave a half-muttered, "Yes…"

"Would you like to join us?" she asked, just a bit louder.

She was such a timid thing with anybeast over thirteen, and Dachlan always had a sneaking suspicion that she was, even after so many years, one of the beasts who wasn't just suspicious of him, but was outright terrified of him. Dressed as he was right then, she must have given considerable thought towards Dachlan being an actual devil.

Dachlan replied, "Actually, I think I will, but I'd like to join as a storyteller, not a listener."

"I suppose that would be okay… if it's alright with the dibbuns, that is." Sister Adelene's tone suggested that she secretly hoped that it wasn't.

Dachlan asked the lot of them, "So what do you think? Want me to tell you a real, vermin, scary story?"

To many of the younger dibbuns who hadn't taken lessons about vermin to heart just yet, the abbey's fox was still something of a novelty, and furthermore one that usually didn't want anything to do with them. The notion that one who normally spurned them wanted to entertain them coupled with the opportunity to be around something that their caregivers warned them about was just too tempting for them to pass up! Many of the dibbuns cheered, and even the ones who weren't sure they liked what they were getting into did the same just to avoid being left out of the group.

"In that case," called Dachlan over the dibbuns' cheers. "Follow me!"

After snatching up one of the long-necked braziers by the entrance of the abbey, Dachlan led the group in a wide U, in the opposite direction they'd first been heading.

"Not to the orchard?" asked Sister Adelene.

"No, I have a much better place in mind." Dachlan's grin told Sister Adelene that there was little chance that she'd like his choice.

During the daytime the graveyard within the abbey walls was tranquil and beautiful in its restful serenity. Dachlan should know, he'd tended to the damn place frequently enough. It had _best_ be attractive. At night though, all graveyards, no matter how inviting they may look during the day, still had a tendency to make the fur on the back of a beast's neck rise. And this rule was especially true for those who were still young enough to let their imaginations run wild when they were surrounded by darkness.

Dachlan came to a halt and set the brazier down, the dibbuns crowding together in a pile on the soft grass, with more than a few having a case of anticipatory quivers. Even some of the adults found the graveyard at least a little spooky, and every now and then they'd look at each other as if to ask, "Is this really appropriate?"

"So you all want to hear a tale of horror, do you?" began Dachlan, leaning nonchalantly upon a tombstone. "Well I have a ghost story that'll scare you all out of your fur! One that's frightening because it's real!"

Dachlan launched into the story, "Years ago, before I came to the abbey, I wasn't a beast of peace and charity, and I didn't believe for a second in such notions as kindness to others, or selflessness, oh no! Take what you can, when you can was the lesson I lived by, and many an unlucky traveler handed over their valuables at the point of my sword!"

A few of the caretakers relaxed once they realized that the story was obvious fiction, and furthermore that it was likely that it would take on a moral tone by the end. After all, Dachlan came to the abbey as a young cub, and if he intended to end the story with any relevance to his real life, he'd have to talk about finding virtues.

"Oh, it was a very wicked but very free life I lived. Though at times, it was a rather hungry and cold life. After all, summer or winter, a beast must eat, but in the winter food and warmth are hard to come by. Desperate beast that I was, I decided to take what I needed from another!

"On the road I waited for a worthy target, and I found it in no time at all! An aged shrew wife towing a cart laden with valuable antiques of silver and finely crafted wood passed, and I leapt out to rob her! I held my sword to her and said, 'Old shre! I've come to take your cart! Give it to me or perish!' The shrew stepped to the side and replied, 'Oh wicked beast! You may take from me my cart, but leave me my medallion! It's been in my family for years.'

"But I felt cruel and powerful, and so I reached out and snatched the medallion from her. It was a bronze one, in the shape of some weird beast's head in profile with a frown carved into their muzzle. It had no value, but I kept it anyhow, laughing at the shrew's misfortune as I left with her cart. She shouted after me, 'Your luck may be good for now, fox, but the day will come when it turns sour! Then nothing will save you!' Naturally I laughed it off."

There came a gasp from the dibbuns, and Dachlan couldn't fully suppress a smile. He had them all hooked!

"My luck was very good! I sold everything I took from the old shrew in a nearby town, and I made enough to buy food and lodging for the entire winter. I gave not one thought about the old shrew or her medallion, which, for some reason, no shopkeeper would take from me.

"Winter drew to a close, and I was still enjoying the rest of the shrew's fortune. But one evening at the tavern, I blacked out after just a single ale. I awoke in the alley behind the tavern without a copper to my name, every single bit of the old shrew's fortune gone! And to make matters worse, when I went back to my home, I found the landlord wouldn't let me in, claiming to have never seen me before! With nothing to do but leave the town and waylay another traveler, I went back into the cold.

"But it seemed that my luck got worse still! A freak snowstorm at the tail end of winter hit, and in minutes the ground was too covered in snow for me to see the road. In no time at all I was lost in the snowy wilderness. Something made me remember the medallion, and I fished it from my pocket to look at it again. It took me a moment to realize that the medallion looked different than I remembered. I could have sworn the beast on it had a frown before, but now it was smiling. The old shrew was right about one thing: stealing the pendant did come with some foul luck. Disgusted, I threw it away and continued on.

"It was then that I heard a whispery, wheedling voice from the direction of the medallion, 'I'll eeeeaaat your black heeeeaaart…' Frightened, I turned, but there was nothing to see but driving snow. I continued on, but soon I heard the same thing again! 'I'll eeeeaaat your black heeeeaaart…' Now I was really scared! I began to walk away from the sound very quickly, but I felt as though I was being followed. I turned, but nothing was there!"

Dibbuns listened with wide eyes, some of the clinging to each other or an adult. Even the older beasts looked disconcerted, and Dachlan got the impression that it was only Redwaller politeness that kept them from stopping his story.

"Terrified out of my mind, I ran as fast as I could from the voice and that cursed medallion, but every time the voice spoke, it sounded closer! And that was when I saw it! It was a huge, dark beast that was thin as a rake, and that walked on four overly long limbs that ended in sharp points! Wherever I looked it was always peering out from behind a tree, never showing its full body and never close enough to show its features. But the one thing I could see even far away was the giant grin on its face!

"I ran for so long, but I never saw it chase me. It just always peered from behind the next tree I looked towards, immobile! Surely I thought it was going to get me, but then I heard the Matthias and Methuselah bells, and I saw the Redwall gate through the snow. I knew that if I could just reach it, I would be safe!"

"Bah!" spat a sassy little ottermaid dressed like a princess. "That's not scary at all! You just escaped it and lived in the abbey and said you were sorry for how bad you were! I knew this wasn't going to be scary!"

There were a few other dibbuns who tried to sound brave by murmuring "Yeah…"

"Don't you want to know what happened though?" asked Dachlan sweetly.

"Well, what happened then?" snapped the ottermaid.

"I continued to flee, running fast as I could to the gate, reaching it and pounding on it, begging to be let in. And that's when I heard the beast from right over my shoulder, speaking into my hear, 'I'll eeeeaaat your black heeeeaaart…' Shivering, I turned slowly, found its awful grinning face mere inches from mine and…"

Dachlan paused, and the dibbuns chorused, "And?"

"And it ripped my heart from my chest and slew me. It is a ghost who is talking to you!" shouted Dachlan at the top of his lungs, ripping open the top half of his robe and showing his chest.

Raspberry jam was smeared into his chest fur, with chunks of the preserved fruit marking the edges of the awful wound.

Dibbuns screamed, some of them running in circles, others throwing their clothes over their eyes, Sister Adelene fainted clean away, and pandemonium reigned. And there was Dachlan, finding it infinitely amusing that it took caretakers nearly half an hour to restore order.

When he went to confession with the abbess about his prank the next morning, he couldn't stop snickering to himself.


End file.
